


Sun Ripened

by HDLynn



Category: Triple Frontier (2019), frankie morales - Fandom
Genre: Berry Picking, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Like PURE fluff, One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, country living
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:07:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HDLynn/pseuds/HDLynn
Summary: A sweet summer morning at the Morales homestead filled with warm sunshine, tart berries, and sweet kisses.
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Reader, Frankie Morales x Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	Sun Ripened

It was still rather early in the morning, perhaps not even nine yet, the sun shining gold through the bright green of summer leaves. Today had been forecasted to become sweltering before noon and I had chickens to feed and wild raspberry brambles to ravage. Frankie had rolled out of bed and headed out to pick up some things we needed for the garden and the hens. But he should be back soonish.  
  
Despite the unseasonable temperature, I pulled on thick socks, jeans, one of Frankie’s long sleeve plaid button-downs over my tank-top, and a pair of stolen old rubber boots of his that almost came up to my knees. I had nearly grabbed my own hiking boots, but they didn’t come up as high as the rubber boots. This ensemble, along with my wide brim straw hat, would give me some protection from the sun, thorns, snakes, and ticks that existed in our little slice of the countryside.

The house was quiet and bright, the morning light filtering in through cozy white and grey gingham curtains. The smell of our shared breakfast of pancakes and coffee still lingered in the kitchen.

I grabbed the two empty gallon ice cream buckets from the kitchen, which were perfect for berry picking since they came with their own handles. The screen door snapped closed with a now-familiar thud as I headed out to the sunny bank that had a plethora of wild raspberries.

After clambering up the natural embankment, I set one of the buckets down and I went to work picking. The combination of the warm weather and the rain we’d had earlier made for a huge amount of the berries ripening quickly. The echo of the fruit landing in the bottom of the plastic bucket was quickly muffled by their weight. I couldn’t help sneaking a few luscious berries here and there, the tart sweetness busting on my tongue.

It had only been about half an hour when I heard the crunch of gravel as Frankie’s truck came down the drive. Pausing, I turned from the briars and watched as he hopped out of the truck. I waved to catch his eye.

His wide grin lit up his face. It still caused butterflies to take up residence in me.

“They have everything at the supply store?” I called out as he trotted over to the edge of where the tall weeds started.

“They sure did,” he drawled, his dimples on display.

“You also remember the iced coffee this time?” I teased, placing a hand on one hip.

He looked offended, “I did!”

I pointedly looked at his empty hands with a raised brow.

“Forget just one time,” he muttered, pretending to be cross. “I have them in the truck, figured you’d need a break out of the sun for a bit.”

I grin at him, “My hero.” I tramped down some of the weeds to reach him.

“So that’s where my old boots went,” Frankie observed with a guffaw.

“I wasn’t going wading around in these weeds in my short hiking boots! There are snakes around here!” I cried out with a smirk, sidestepping as he tried grabbing at the berries in the bucket.

“True, but you’re going to twist an ankle, Sugar. My boots are too large for you.”

“That’s why I stuffed the toes with newspaper, perfect fit now. I just look like I have enormous feet,” I smile cheekily at his concern.

He blinked owlishly a moment before chuckling, “I suppose that’ll work. But we’re getting you a pair of your own”

“It does, also worked when I borrowed my grandpa’s boots years ago,” I said primly, moving the bucket with its bounty of berries out of his reach again. But that had apparently been a ploy to distract me enough so that he could sneak his other arm around my waist and drag me in close.

Frankie’s hand wrapped around my fingers, holding onto the ice cream bucket’s red handle. He took it and set it down before he nuzzled his nose against mine. I softly closed my eyes at the gentleness of his movements, warm and slow like a cloying honey ran in our veins. His lips found mine in a feather-like caress. Once, twice, three times before I found myself running my hands over his chest and up to his shoulders to pull him in closer to deepen the kisses.

His hands sunk into my jeans back pockets, pulling me into him. He tasted like his iced coffee, a dark roast highlighted with a punch of saccharine caramel.  
  
“You’re so mean,” he mumbled against my lips before kissing me deeply again. It was as if he was trying to devour me.

He left me gasping for air, “Why’d you say that?”

“I can taste the raspberries on your lips, and you won’t let me have any,” he accused with a grumble.

I opened my eyes to see him glaring playfully at me, his eyes twinkling. My fingers played with the fluffy hair sticking out at odd angles from under the hat.

“If I let you have some now you’ll eat the whole bucket and I really want to make some jam with these.”

He pulled out the puppy dog eyes, damnable man. He knew exactly what he was doing with them.

“Fine,” I caved. “You can have some. But you’re helping me pick the rest of the good ones and you can’t eat them all!”

“Deal, Mrs. Morales,” his smirk flooding me with heat. “But, first, you’re drinking this iced coffee I had to wait in line for, and then we’re drinking some water. You’re looking a bit warm.”

I hummed, content in his arms, “If you insist, Mr. Morales.” I then pulled him back in for another kiss, feeling a deep ease fill me at the tickle of his mustache and scruff on my face and his solid hands at my waist.

~*~*~


End file.
